


Lightning

by LarirenShadow



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Family Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 15:25:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1693235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarirenShadow/pseuds/LarirenShadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She glances at her nails as smoke and ozone burn her nose.  “You’re not concentrating enough,” she drawls as she flexes her fingers straight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lightning

**Author's Note:**

> For be the peaf prompt Control. I need to get these in on time.

She glances at her nails as smoke and ozone burn her nose. “You’re not concentrating enough,” she drawls as she flexes her fingers straight. Her brother growls as he stands and pushes the sweaty hair out of his face. She’s told him countless times he needs to figure out how to control his hair, he looks undignified when its a mess. He shrugs at her in response (she assumes this, like unkempt hair, is a habit he picked up from living as a peasant).

“I am concentrating Azula,” he says through clenched teeth. “We’ve been at this for weeks and you don’t seem to be helping at-”

“Zuzu,” she interrupts, “why are we even trying this?”

He sighs; she’s asked the question that always wins. “Because the doctors say it helps you and it does and I need to learn lightningbending.” She wonders if he knows he’s absently stroking the scar she put on his chest. 

“That’s right,” she confirms, “and it is helping.”

He opens his mouth to reply then closes it. He’s not sure what to say, she decides. She wonders if he does this in any of his meetings that she’s still not allowed to go to (though she’s sure they would help her too, she needs to feel busy). “Mom should be arriving later today,” he finally says. She stiffens at his words and tries very hard not to show any emotion. Her fingers twitch and she feels the electricity charge between them.

“I forgot,” she says. Her arm shoots forward and lightning splits the air. “See, not so hard. Try it again.”

~*~*~

She’s impressed at how Zuko has somehow orchestrated this whole visit. She’s never been alone with Mother for more than an hour at a time. Everything is scheduled and requires precise timing (she’ll have to compliment her brother, the thought still leaves a bitter taste in her mouth). She only sees Mother’s husband (never step-father) at meals or events they whole brood is supposed to attend. Her bubbly half-sister tries to get her to break schedule and play dolls “like Zuko does.” She, Azula, thinks Ty Lee would make a better big sister to this girl.

During the whole visit she insists on lightningbending practice twice a day (schedule permitting). It’s the time she can center herself, where words of doubt and outrage quiet in her head and she can feel at peace. She doesn’t explain this to Zuko but the way he sets everything aside for practice and humors all her sharp critiques makes her think he knows exactly what she’s doing. She hates that he’s become preceptive.

Mother appears at their practice on her last full day in the Capital. “I haven’t really watched either of you bend since you were children,” she says calmly as she sits off to the side. 

“It’s not that interesting,” Zuko says as he looks at his hands. Zuko, she assumes, is thinking of his failure to produce anything and how Mother will still think he’s doing his best. She knows that slight hesitation, its the same one she felt whenever Father requested she demonstrate a new move.

“It’s dangerous,” she asserts as she crosses her arms. Mother just smiles. “Fine,” she huffs, “Zuko start again.”

She can tell the second the energy begins to jump between his fingers that he’s failed. She takes a step to the side as the explosion pushes Zuko to the ground. She waits for Mother to jump up and come rushing to his aid. She expects words of encouragement and love but instead Mother surprises her: she stays seated and doesn’t say a single word.

“You’re still not concentrating,” she chides as she offers her hand to her brother. Zuko glares at her. “Watch me again.” She gracefully moves through the motions, calmly separating and controlling the energy until she directs it out. As smoke curls from her fingers she hears clapping. She expects Zuko is mocking her until she sees him standing perfectly still next to her.

“That was amazing Azula,” Mother compliments. She, Azula, has a vague memory of Mother telling her that before: when she was five and just completed a complicated move in a demonstration her firebending teacher insisted she put on for her parents. The words were quickly followed by Father ordering for her to do the move again.

There’s a crack behind her and Zuko’s face looks triumphant. “I did it!” He cheers and, for some reason she cannot fathom, hugs her and says “thank you.” She slowly and awkwardly wraps her arms around him. She knows she’s supposed to do this but it feels too strange to be comfortable.

A new set of arms wrap themselves around the two of them. “I knew you could do it,” Mother tells Zuko as she holds both of them close. She wants to run because this is not what she wants to hear, this is not something she’s ever dreamed of being part of it and makes her uncomfortable. 

“I’m going to try again,” Zuko says like an eager child. She hopes this means Mother will let her go but she doesn’t. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Mother says. “I never said it enough but I want you to know that.” She’s secretly wanted to hear these words for as long as she can remember. She hates to admit it, hates that she can’t contain how she’s feeling. 

She hates that she’s starting to cry and whispers “Mom” as Ursa strokes her back and lightning cracks in the sky.


End file.
